Lt. J.D. Rainbolt saved the dogs his men has smuggled on board the troop transport ship before returning stateside after the war
My father, J.D. Rainbolt left us this morning, two months after he broke his arm at the shoulder. When he abandoned his earthy cloak, he left behind the pain of a body that refused to mend. He also left the tears of two daughters and a son who loved him very much.
But our loss is Heaven’s gain. I imagine the reception he received was filled with barks and purrs, whinnies and even some moos.
Dad always loved animals–all animals. I grew up hearing that some day he would own a ranch. In the mid-1960s he realized his dream and bought a run down tract of land near Seguin, Texas. A phone company engineer by day, he turned into a gentleman rancher on the weekend. Early on, the R Square Ranch resembled a dilapidated farm in the 1960s sitcom Green Acres. With a lot of sweat and perseverance, Dad molded the land into a working ranch.
Dad with the first calf born at the R Square
Dad truly loved his cows. I’ve never met another rancher who bought his beef at the grocery store, but Dad did. Because he didn’t want his calves ending up on someone’s dinner plate, he raised pedigreed black Angus, which he sold as breeding stock.
He decided before he bought his herd that he’d catch more cows with honey than vinegar. He trained his little herd that the sound of the horn promised a tasty treat called cake or range cubes. Every time he drove up to the ranch entrance he’d honk the horn. A happy audience of black cows would stampede to the corral to greet him.
Dad’s most touching animal story happened during World War II when he found himself surrounded by war dogs. Dad served in the U.S. Army Signal Corps as a communications scout in France. He commanded a small unit of 30 men, who all returned home safely. During the course of the war, his men would feed and rescue starving stray dogs. In return, the dogs offered war-weary soldiers friendly face lickings and emotional escape from the horrors of war.
But, the military frowns on troops keeping pets. Even today soldiers carefully conceal the dog or cat who travels with their units. If discovered, orders are often given to shoot the animal. However, some officers turned a blind eye to the illicit love affair for the good of his people and the starving animals.
J.D. Rainbolt was one of those officers. An avid dog lover since childhood, Dad took no notice of the soldiers’ canine companions, or at least never officially.
When the day finally arrived to return home, one of his men approached Dad and asked, “Lieutenant, what should we do we with the dogs?” Dad told the soldier, “Find local families to give them homes. Give them some money so they can care for them. You can’t bring them on the ship.”
When the unit boarded the troop transport ship bound for the U.S., Dad said there wasn’t even the hint of a dog for miles. He just assumed the locals had a lot of wonderful new pets. Several hours after weighing anchor, pooches appeared on deck. A few at first. Then more and more. Before long, Dad bumped into dogs no matter where he went on the ship. Dad learned that the dog smugglers had fed their pets sedatives, stuffed them in their duffel bags, then carried them onto the ship. Dad’s men weren’t the only ones who disobeyed the dog-abandonment order. Most of the dogs onboard had traveled with combats units. Over 100 French mutts found themselves bound for the United States.
The no-nonsense admiral in charge of the convoy ordered my dad to shoot every dog on the ship. Dad respectfully replied he didn’t think that wasn’t wise.
“These men have been killing Germans for months,” young Lt. Rainbolt reminded the admiral. “The dogs are part of their unit. If you start shooting dogs, there will be a bloodbath. These men won’t hesitate to kill to protect their dogs”.
How would they carry out this mutiny, the admiral wanted to know. The admiral thought all of the weapons onboard had been stowed in the bowels of the ship. My dad, reminded him that only the military-issued weapons were locked up. The same duffel bags that smuggled in contraband dogs, also (legally) brought in captured guns, ammo and knives. (Even Dad came home with eight captured German bayonets, and of course some cognac.)
The admiral realized before he could enforce his dog destruction order, he’d have to take up the captured weapons. Each piece would have to be logged in, labeled and stored so it could be reissued to its owner before the soldier left the ship. The confiscation process continued well past mid-voyage, at which time they had to start returning the arms. After all, with an immediate turnaround, they couldn’t waste valuable dock time messing with souvenirs. The admiral conceded, and both mutts and men openly strolled the ship for the rest of the cruise..
The last time Dad told the story, he couldn’t recall many of the details. The admiral and the ship’s name have been lost to time. And while these dogs saved the hearts and souls of his men, Dad just returned the favor. And for a few days at the end of World War II, Dad had over 100 dogs. That made Lt. Rainbolt the happiest dog lover in the world.
So I have no doubt that early this morning J.D. Rainbolt was greeted by joyful kitties, a few bunnies, some horses, a large herd of Angus and a huge pack of dogs (a hundred of whom barked with a French accent), all begging, “Pet me! Pet Me!”
Between tears I visualize the joyful reunion. “You go, Dad. I miss you.”
What a loving tribute!
it is always so heartbreaking when you lose a loved one. My heart goes out to you and your family at this difficult time.
I’m so sorry for your loss. It sounds like your dad was one heck of a guy. Be comforted he is surrounded by a whole herd, flock, bunch of grateful and living angels.
Dusty, I am so sorry for your loss. You Dad sounds like a wonderful human being. You were lucky to call him Dad. The animals will all miss him. Xo
I remember you telling this story and I’m so glad you’ve documented it here as well. What a wonderful man and legacy–his kids do him proud!
Dusty – I am so sorry for your family’s loss. Your dad sounds like a great guy. And we know he will be well met.
I truly believe this is the best writing you’ve ever done. J.D. was a wonderful man & he was so proud of you & the writer you’ve become.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Dusty. It sounds like J.D. was a truly wonderful man and I’m sorry I never had the opportunity to meet him. I have no doubt that he will be well met and warmly welcomed in his new place though. Your words here allow all of us to celebrate his legacy. Thank you for sharing. This is a fitting tribute for your dad.
What a lovely story.
Oh, Dusty, I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your father’s legacy with us. Your post brought simultaneous smiles and tears reading about an incredible lifetime of love for animals.
What a lovely tribute… while I am sorry for your loss and my heart aches for you and your family, I feel such joy knowing that he will be welcomed by such an array of creatures, both great and small…
Dusty,
You have never been a stronger, more powerful writer than you showed when you wrote this loving tribute. You honor a man in your words and in your deeds of today as you continue his legacy of rescue. I am sorry for you loss- I know it is deep but you will find your way across it and keep going-
God Bless~
Love the piece! The animals are surrounding your Dad in the Heavenly Jerusalem.
Awesome look at a life well lived. Sorry for your loss, but what a great dad you had.
What an incredible person, Dusty, someone I would have loved to have met. It was people like him who carried the flame of humane treatment of all animals when they were seen as expendable, especially on a ranch. I’m so glad for you to have had him for so long.
Absolutely beautiful, Dusty. Your dad was quite a man and obviously your role model. I send you hugs and prayers for a healing heart but hang on to those precious memories.
What a loss of a very good man. We’ll probably meet at The Rainbow Bridge someday.
Dusty, a beautiful tribute to your Dad and what beautiful memories you and your family have.
Dusty, you truly outdid yourself in SHOWING us what an incredible man your Dad was. Like Mark above, I hope to meet him someday also … at the Rainbow Bridge. You and your family are in my prayers.
Dusty, what a wonderful tribute. What a COOL father you had. I’m sorry for your loss, and I appreciate your sharing who your dad was with all of us. Hugs to you.
Sounds like your dad saved and loved a lot of animals. A lovely tribute story to him.